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My internet-radio show, Kill the Head, “airs” every Friday, 5 to 7:o0 p.m. (eastern), on Asheville Free Media.

This week’s installment of Kill the Head spotlighted the music of Moritz von Oswald and his myriad projects/labels: The Moritz von Oswald Trio, Basic Channel, Rhythm & Sound, Basic Replay, 3MB, 2MB, Rounds One to Five, Maurizio, Palais Schaumburg and more. Having revolutionized a sonic strategy that’s best described as dubby minimalism, Oswald is a true pioneer whose influence can be felt in techno, house, experimental electronics, noise and underground rock.

Here’s the playlist.

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“Classic Rock Crate Digger” is a column I write for the Rhapsody Blog.

A column exploring classic rock’s long-lost and overlooked might seem like an odd forum for a Krautrock primer, but a little historical excavation proves otherwise. Nowadays, most music critics and historians consider Krautrock, a tag used to describe Germany’s experimental rock scene in the 1970s, to be an “alternative” genre, an eccentric forefather of punk, post-punk, industrial and electronica. That’s all true. However, when record stores in the United States and the U.K. first started importing albums from Can, Faust, Tangerine Dream and so on in the early 1970s, these bands were often tagged “progressive rock,” right alongside heavies like Yes, King Crimson, The Soft Machine and Van Der Graaf Generator. This isn’t to say progressive rock and Krautrock are synonymous, but back in the day, their respective fan bases often possessed considerable overlap.

Considering prog is well within the Crate Digger’s wheelhouse, then it’s high time I spotlighted 11 of my all-time favorite Krautrock albums.

I mean, hey, we all have to take a break from Thin Lizzy every now and then!

Can: Tago Mago
Probably the most (justifiably) celebrated Krautrock album of all time, Tago Mago represents the apex of Can’s powers. Accentuating the “mental” in “experimental,” our heroes bend space and time with ample help from innovative tape-loop manipulation, inverted bastardized grooves, astral guitar layers and Damo Suzuki at his peak — singing with a lazy haze of cohesive cool on parts of “Mushroom,” and violently convulsing with lyrical outbursts of amazing incoherence on “Peking O.” Calling this album “ahead of its time” is a well-meant injustice. (Eric Shea)

Popol Vuh: Das Hohelied Salomos
More than any other Krautrock band, Popol Vuh were obsessed with exploring the spiritual in modern experimental rock music. Like much of their catalog, Das Hohelied Salomos sounds like a religious invocation: majestic, sacred and exotic. By the time of the record’s release in 1975, the group was clearly moving away from the electronic-based compositions of its earlier drone work. The stars here are the incredibly ethereal vocals of Djong Yun and Daniel Fichelscher’s chiming electric-guitar work. Interestingly enough, Popol Vuh sound influenced by The Grateful Dead’s mid-’70 fusion phase. (Justin Farrar)

Tangerine Dream: Electronic Meditation
There’s no underestimating Tangerine Dream’s influence on modern electronic music; they’ve touched everything from techno to underground noise to New Age. Early on, however, T.D. were first and foremost a psychedelic rock band, as spacey and magical as Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd or the Soft Machine. If you want to explore the outer reaches of sound, look no further than the group’s debut album, Electronic Meditation. There are only five songs here, but every one is a droning masterpiece. (J.F.)

Embryo: Opal
Predating Embryo’s move into funky ethnic-fusion by about three years, Opal exudes a kind of jazz-inflected psychedelic-rock feel. Through the years the band has been regularly compared to Can. The comparison makes sense when first encountering a track like “You Don’t Know What’s Happening,” which sounds not far removed from the iconic Tago Mago. At the same time, Embryo bust way more skronk than their Krautrock peers. The group’s grooves are also less fluid, more like stuttering pistons than purring motorik. To hear the band at their peak, go straight to “People from Out the Space.” (J.F.)

Neu!: Neu! (Box Set)
Brian Eno once said, “There were three great beats in the 1970s: Fela Kuti’s Afrobeat, James Brown’s funk and Klaus Dinger’s Neu! beat.” Compiling the group’s three official studio albums, plus remastered reissues of Neu! ’86 and Neu! ’72 Live in Dusseldorf, this five-disc box set is the word on that innovative beat. It’s a crisp, propulsive brand of hypno-groove that wound up exerting an enormous influence on post-punk, techno, indie rock and beyond. Critics often tag it “futuristic,” yet a more apt description would be “timeless.” It’s as elemental and pure as the pulse in your wrist. (J.F.)

Deuter: D
German composer Deuter is known primarily as one of the founders of ambient New Age music. Yet his earliest work, believe it or not, is brain-melting psychedelic awesomeness. His 1971 debut album, simply titled D, is a key release in the Krautrock/Kosmische-Musik canon. The record is a thick, throbbing fusion of delirious space rock, tribal-like fogginess and electronic buzz. In all honesty, fans of Deuter’s later work might not know what to make of the powerfully strange brew that is D. (J.F.)

Amon Düül II: Phallus Dei
Amon Düül II came together in the late ’60s after the real-deal musicians in Amon Düül ditched their communal brethren. Growing tired of all the tribal shenanigans, they wanted to rock out like pros, and that’s exactly what they did. Phallus Dei, the group’s debut, is a landmark in early, psych-tinged progressive rock. The arrangements and compositions are imaginative and well crafted, while the ensemble interplay is aggressive, bordering on manic at times. For the first dozen spins or so you’ll have trouble making it past the opening title track, a 20-minute epic that’s a joy to explore.(J.F.)

Faust: So Far
On Faust’s sophomore effort, released in 1972, the Krautrock icons pull back just a bit from the avant-garde extremes marking their debut. The result is a wonderfully eccentric rock album, incorporating touches of folk, prog, psych, electronic music and classical. Unlike Can and their love for laser-guided focus, Faust are obsessed with variety and change. That said, several songs — including “It’s a Rainy Day, Sunshine Girl,” “I’ve Got My Car and My TV” and “Mamie Is Blue” — possess a bubblegum-bred playfulness. Faust just love to have fun — even when they’re diving into the sonic abyss. (J.F.)

Harmonia & Eno ’76 (aka Harmonia ’76): Tracks and Traces (Reissue)
Back in the mid-’70s, Brian Eno was one of the first non-German musicians of note to realize Deutschland was producing some of the most vital pop and rock of the decade. In 1976 he teamed up with one of his favorite groups, Harmonia (itself a spin-off of two more personal faves: Neu! and Cluster), and recorded a handful of tracks. Though none were released officially until 1997, the short-lived collaboration exerted a huge influence on the myriad directions Eno’s solo material would take well into the ’80s. In other words, Tracks and Traces is one of the foundations of modern ambient-pop music. (J.F.)

Agitation Free: 2nd
Agitation Free don’t possess the hipster cache of Can, Faust and Amon Duul II, yet they created some of Krautrock’s best music. The band’s relative obscurity can in part be attributed to their idiosyncratic evolution. Unlike their peers, many of which turned more alien-sounding with each release, Agitation Free did the exact opposite. Thus, 2nd is far more rooted in American improv-rock circa 1970 than its predecessor, the insanely exotic Malesch. Nevertheless, this record is awesome; in a perfect world it would be considered a jam-band essential, right up there with Live/Dead and Eat a Peach. (J.F.)

Ashra: New Age of Earth
Manuel Göttsching’s transformation in the 1970s is amazing. In well under 10 years he went from pioneering blitzed-out space rock in the band Ash Ra Tempel to helping lay modern electronica’s foundation with his Ashra project. Originally released in 1976, New Age of Earth isn’t dissimilar from the synth-based kosmische musik of ex-Ash Ra mate Klaus Schulze, or even Spiral-era Vangelis. And yet it feels wonderfully prescient and out of time. Its crisp focus and airtight flow feel more in tune with the binary logic of the cyber-era than the deep-space ambient music popular at the time. (J.F.)

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My internet-radio show, Kill the Head, “airs” every Friday, 5 to 7:o0 p.m. (eastern), on Asheville Free Media.

Here’s the playlist for 07.23.2010.

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This interview originally appeared on the Mountain Xpress’ arts & entertainment blog.

Over the last few years, the outer fringes of electronic music have birthed a new generation of musicians obsessed with vintage Krautrock, Kosmische Musik, proto-New Age atmospherics and old-school synth experimentation. We’re talking intrepid, young sound explorers hell bent on bringing the delicious ambient glory of Tangerine Dream, Cluster and Klaus Schulze into the 21st century.

Two of the movement’s most vital artists, Sam Goldberg and Emeralds, hail from the former home of that traitor LeBron James. There, with Cleveland’s sprawling industrial decay as their backdrop, they have crafted some of the most wonderfully hypnotic music of the past decade. Goldberg’s Current LP in particular feels like a real benchmark for this dazzling, new music.

Luckily, Asheville will get to sample Mr. Goldberg’s killer drone-work when his current tour (spotlighting his synth project Radio People) takes him to Harvest Records this Monday, July 19.

I recently talked with Goldberg. We covered a lot of ground, everything from his friendship with Emeralds, to his record label Pizza Night, to his all-time favorite ambient jams.

Check it out…

Farrar: I assume you grew-up cutting your teeth on punk, hardcore and indie rock.

Goldberg: Yes. Punk and indie rock were a staple of my youth, but not hardcore so much. I also grew up listening to The Grateful Dead, The Band and the Beatles, primarily through my folks. Once I got into punk I shunned that stuff, but eventually came back around to the “classics.” The Band and the Beatles have as much influence on my music as synth heavyweights like Klaus Schulze and Michael Stearns.

How did you transition into ambient and drone electronics?

My transition came from the playful psych-zones of indie rock and the Beatles-inspired stuff, which then led to stoner rock, drone and beyond. The last pop band I had sounded similar to Guided by Voices and Gris Gris. But because I was getting into noisier psychedelic music, as well as Krautrock, I wanted to create sounds that were more “out there.”

Did this realization happen over a period of time, or was it a kind of epiphany?

I started listening to Brian Eno and Tangerine Dream around the time I moved back to Cleveland after a short stint in Chicago, where I went to film school — an epic failure. I met Emeralds in the basement of the now-defunct Church [a local performance space]. They turned me on to even more jams. They also egged me on to get off the sidelines and record — I was just booking a lot of noise shows. I decided to use an organ and a delay pedal to make my first tape, which I recorded down in basement of [Emeralds’] Mark McGuire.

For someone familiar only with your recorded output, how does it compare to your live show?

On this tour I’m doing Radio People, which is my synth project. It very much comes from my love of the more proggy sounds of later Krautrock and synth music.

Performing live, however, became a bore for me about a year ago. I burned-out on my guitar and reverb set-up. I love that style, because of its simplicity. Current can be played from beginning to end using that set up. And I did that quite a bit. But I wanted to do “more” rather than the slow dreary stuff that Current embodies. It tends to put crowds that aren’t normally into my kind of music to sleep. I just finished a new album, on which I’m accompanied by sax, drums, clarinet, etc. I would like to bring an ensemble like that on the road. It’s the next logical step beyond Current. But for now I continue to play solo.

What’s your current set-up in terms of equipment and instrumentation?

My Korg Polysix and a Casio organ-and-drum machine combo. It’s connected to my style in Mist, my project with John Elliot of Emeralds. After playing synth in Mist I realized I wanted to continue using synthesizers in my solo performances. My Radio People style came from that.

I do think you share with Emeralds a love for the sublime. Both of you seem willing to move beyond the love of distortion and feedback common in underground noise.

My Sam Goldberg material and Radio People project are two very different things. I do feel that way about my own solo material. It’s based on a certain sound that I hope to expand over time — more about finding the music that is in my head and heart. Though it’s drone based, I’m starting to use more acoustic instruments, rather than blaring-reverb guitar. Radio People is more of a conceptual project. The goal is to create something that is a bit more cinematic. It’s about a picture in my head, rather than a feeling.

Would you say your music is experimental? Or do you approach music more like a composer writing a song?

Songwriting for sure.

You release both limited-edition cassettes and finely packaged vinyl. Do you prefer one to the other, or do both media have distinct advantages and charms?

Vinyl. I want to do more records, of course, but my cassettes serve a different purpose. I enjoy following artists in between their major releases myself, so I like to drop tapes to keep people up on my music. At this point, it’s the only way—other than relatively short run LPs—to do this.

Does the medium ever dictate the music? For example, it seems as if the recordings on Current (Weird Forest Records, 2009) are very much intended for vinyl.

Actually, Side A of Current appeared on tape and wasn’t intended for vinyl. But I realized they were pinnacle tracks from my early work and really embodied that zone for me.

Can you tell me about any upcoming projects and/or releases?

A Radio People self-titled LP is due out next week on Digitalis. Only 300 copies, but I think it will be available online. It’s made up of my favorite tracks from the first 3 tapes that I did with the project. After that, the new Sam Goldberg LP on the Arbor label coming early next year — I’m really excited for that as well.

Now on to the most important question of our interview! What kind of cool tour merch do you plan to unleash on Asheville?

Lots of new Pizza Night releases, a Radio People tour tape and hopefully my record!

Just one more: if you were to run into some little punker-dude who wanted to expose his/her noggin to classic Krautrock, Kosmische Musik and ambient jams, what three albums would you recommend?

La Düsseldorf: Viva
Walter Carlos: Sonic Seasonings
Ashra: New Age of Earth

Those are the three I go back to all the time.

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My internet-radio show, Kill the Head, “airs” every Friday, 5 to 7:o0 p.m. (eastern), on Asheville Free Media.

This week Kill the Head spotlighted the music of Sightings, the most important and vital underground art-rock band of the last decade. The show went really well, I think. A big thank you to guitarist Mark Morgan, whom I interviewed via phone.

Here’s the playlist.

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This feature profile originally appeared in the Mountain Xpress.

The annual Swannanoa Gathering is an ideal locale for interviewing the Twilite Broadcasters. Here, on the campus of Warren Wilson College, Adam Tanner and Mark Jackson are surrounded by fellow musicians obsessed with the myriad forms of archaic Americana. A killer multi-instrumentalist and mainstay on the Western North Carolina folk scene, Tanner is scheduled to play several times during the week-long, workshop-intensive exploration of traditional song and fiddle.

Swannanoa Valley is gorgeous tonight. For now, the suffocating heat has relented. After meeting-up outside Morris Pavilion we grab beers from Highland Brewing’s makeshift tent and carve out turf near the fiddle circle, from which a serene drone permeates the atmosphere.

The Weaverville duo is beside itself. “Did you just see Charlie Louvin perform?” they both ask, minds clearly blown.

A member of the music staff at this year’s Gathering, Louvin is one of their idols. The Louvin Brothers, Charlie and Ira, helped pioneer the close-harmony/brother-duets tradition the Twilite Broadcasters now mine. Sandwiched between the “hillbilly” craze of the ’20s and bluegrass’ ascent in the mid ’40s, it’s a stripped-down, melancholic style of country music that found a home during the Great Depression, with groups like the Monroe Brothers, the Delmore Brothers, the Blue Sky Boys and the Rich-R-Tone-era Stanley Brothers.

I first caught Jackson and Tanner (who started playing together in 2008) last summer at the Bluff Mountain Festival in Hot Springs. Their act totally stuck out. During what felt like a laid-back gathering of family and friends, the Broadcasters gave a real-deal performance, one steeped in professionalism and hardcore music scholarship. Their vintage sartorial flavor, sharp but not enslaved to a bygone era, made their stage presence only that much more formal.

The disconnect between their intensity and Bluff Mountain’s pastoral vibe is something the Broadcasters believe is a region-wide phenomenon. “[Asheville] is a casual town when it comes to folk culture, and Mark and I are into stuff that’s a bit more edgy,” says Tanner, a Californian by birth. “What we do is a presentation, and some people are uncomfortable with presentation. If it isn’t about the communal, ‘we’re all one’ thing, then people can be a put off. That’s just not our focus. We’re trying to put on an old-fashioned show.”

This explains why there’s also a kind of subtle irony in hanging with Jackson and Tanner at The Swannanoa Gathering. To invoke a Seeger-family dichotomy: It’s an awesome event for sure, but ultimately it favors the egalitarian, jam-session ethos long espoused by Pete Seeger. The Broadcasters, in contrast, have adopted more of a Mike Seeger perspective: folk revivalism isn’t always about open participation and camaraderie; sometimes, it’s about a small group of skilled musicians attempting to hone a singular language, something unique to that particular ensemble.

The Twilite Broadcasters aren’t alone. Over the last several years a handful of younger musicians have emerged who clearly graduated from the Mike Seeger school, including the Carolina Chocolate Drops, the Black Twig Pickers just outside Roanoke, Brooklyn’s Dust Busters and the enigmatic Frank Fairfield. As with the Twilite Broadcasters, these artists create music that means something in the now by balancing extreme erudition in old-school folk and country with a desire to wipe away wispy mountain nostalgia.

Indeed, there’s currency in Tanner and Jackson’s aesthetic. Instead of producing a strict retro-shtick, they’ve distilled what’s universal about this old-time tradition. The close-harmony/brother-duets style, you see, didn’t just die off; it was sucked into mainstream country and pop music. Whenever you hear tight, soaring vocal work — everybody from the Everlys and the Osbornes to the Byrds and Big Star — you’re hearing the descendants of those first-generation groups mentioned above.

“There were certain guys in the ’60s who carried on the tradition of the Louvins and the Monroes,” explains Tanner. “Buck Owens and Don Rich definitely did, so we started incorporating some of that stuff into our set.”

Jackson, who spent his childhood in southwest Virginia listening to both country and rock music, picks up the thread. “On the Beatles’ Live at the BBC album they do that Carl Perkins song ‘Sure to Fall (In Love With You),’ and it’s so much like a Louvins song. It’s so stripped down. It’s country music.”

The Twilite Broadcasters have yet to record “Sure to Fall,” but their debut album Evening Shade, recorded at Altamont Recording, contains numerous tracks reflecting their ability to look beyond history’s gauzy surface. My favorite stretch comes near disc’s end when the pair jump smoothly from the Everly Brothers (“Long Time Gone”) to the traditional ballad “Pretty Red Shoes” (aka “Who’s Gonna Shoe Your Pretty Little Feet”) to the exquisite fiddle tune and title track “Evening Shade.”

With other jam circles now soaking the air around us, the Broadcasters close out our talk with an irony that easily surpasses any we’ve thus far discussed.

“We’re making Depression-era music, and we’re right back there,” says Tanner, with a laugh. “So we’re kind of like, ‘Hey, it worked back then, so it might work now.’”

It’s a rather sad notion, but hey, that’s the nature of this wonderful music.

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My internet-radio show, Kill the Head, “airs” every Friday, 5 to 7:o0 p.m. (eastern), on Asheville Free Media.

Here’s the playlist for 07.09.2010.

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Rhapsody asked me — actually, the Classic Rock Crate Digger — to head to Milwaukee to cover Summerfest, the city’s annual music-festival tradition. I stayed for three days and wrote a dispatch for each one for the Rhapsody Blog. Below is the second. Here’s the first and second.

Ah, day three of Team Rhapsody’s intrepid sojourn into the bowls of Summerfest, the largest music festival in our wondrous solar system. This is our final stand — the last hurrah. Friday is the busiest day yet, no question about it. A ton of patriotic Americans, more than primed for the three-day weekend, have obviously ditched the 9-to-5 slave trade in favor of wandering Henry Maier Festival Park for the next 10 hours.

As our routine now dictated, we kicked-off our early afternoon schedule with an interview: Christian metalcore missionaries The Devil Wears Prada, who headlined the CoolTV Rock Stage. Fun stuff for sure — they’re young and sassy and talkative. Hold on a second; did I mention young? The band and just about everyone in their entourage looked as if they required permission slips from their parents to tour the country without a chaperon watching their every move. By the way, if any TDWP fans are reading this, lookout for a special EP release in the very near future. Hopefully, we’ll be adding it to Rhapsody’s catalog as soon as it comes out.

While chatting about Mike Hranica’s now-defunct grind project xGUMBYx, I heard a low, ominous grumble. I initially assumed it was Hranica shifting into his cookie-monster growl, some kind of pre-show ritual, possibly. But it was actually my stomach. A massive VACANCY sign was plastered across it. After parting ways with Hranica and his vocal foil Jeremy DePoyster around 2:30, I scoured the festival grounds for the ultimate in Summerfest cuisine, which is basically [insert food] dipped in fried grease. The Crate Digger’s poor, little tummy wasn’t totally prepared for this; despite my love of the heavy jams and hard rock, I’m an organic-loving wussy when it comes to food. (Yes, this means I often crank Thin Lizzy’s Fighting album while sipping a warm cup of green tea.)

Nevertheless, I felt a weird compulsion to do a Charles Kuralt-inspired “slice of American life” tour of the concession stands in order to discover what unique culinary treats the fine people of Milwaukee enjoy devouring. So, without further ado, here are three dishes that totally scream SUMMERFEST!

Mozzarella Marinara from the legendary Saz’s. That isn’t your garden-variety breading, people. It’s an eggroll crust. And yes, what you’re feeling in your chest is every major artery trembling with fear. This has to be the dish of Summerfest, even better than the fried cheese curds.

An informal survey about a flagship meat dish produced a virtual tie between Crawdaddy’s Alligator On a Stick and Mader’s Bratwurst with Dill Pickle and Sauerkraut. I went with the latter, as the gator dish sounded way too Delta for the Rust Belt. Plus, it’s just gross.

A Funnel Cake from Schwabenhof = simple classic elegance. Never, and I mean, never attend a music festival of this magnitude without eating, like 6 of these.

Okay. Now on to the jams.

Friday, for me at least, was all about the big names who only perform after the sun has dropped from the western sky. I did, however, catch one daytime act that impressed me. Around 4 p.m., over at the Harley-Davidson Roadhouse stage, I caught a classic biker-rock band ripping into a vintage Bo Diddley beat, only the guitarist, who totally wailed, used a tone that reminded me of Degüello-era Billy Gibbons. It was a group by the name of The Alex Wilson Band. They were pretty damn sweet.

The Heavy At 8 p.m. I caught The Heavy, whom we interviewed earlier in the day, over at the U.S. Cellular Connections stage. The U.K. quartet has a very classic sound, nervy soul-rock with a garage edge, and a lead singer, Kelvin Swaby, who knows how to really croon. I mean, they are definitely gimmicky in a hipster/indie sort of way. But like the Black Keys, as well as their friends the Dap-Kings, they possess a fairly subtle understanding of vintage sounds without ever devolving into retro-shenanigans. Folks went particularly wild when they busted out the jam “What You Want Me to Do?,” which appeared in an episode of Stargate Universe not too long ago (yes, I’m a sci-fi nerd, too).

Like the night before, Summerfest scheduled multiple heavy-hitters at the same time. In Friday’s case it was Scorpions and Yes. I would’ve loved to see both sets in their entirety, but unfortunately, I was forced to ping-pong about the festival grounds, which by 9 p.m. were beyond packed. It was overwhelming. In addition to thousands of bodies colliding into one another in some kind of squirmy quantum dance, there was lots of spilled beer, as well as the occasional golf-cart ambulance violently slicing into the throngs. But hey, this, I quickly learned, is what Summerfest is all about. It’s supposed to be crowded, sweaty and raucous. This is festival tradition, one going all the way back to the infamous bonfire riots of 1973 (Humble Pie was the headliner back then).

I also learned something else here at Summerfest: Milwaukee takes its vintage hard-rock very seriously. This is why the Scorpions have one of the most coveted spots of the entire festival: Friday night at the Harley-Davidson Roadhouse stage. Now, getting excited for a Scorpions concert in 2010 might seem a tad silly and anachronistic. But as I mentioned in my review of the 1975 album In Trance, the group has long suffered from an identity crisis. They made their bread ‘n’ butter on a string of syrupy hair-metal anthems in the 1980s and early ’90s. This is the stuff younger generations of rock fans associate with the band — the power ballad “Wind of Change” for example. But for the older guard who came of age partying in the ’70s (we’ll throw self-professed fan Craig Finn in there as well), the Scorps were a badass proto-metal band who, along with Judas Priest and Rainbow, helped lay the groundwork for the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. (I talk more about the legends of proto-metal in a recent installment of my “Classic Rock Crate Digger” column.)

Anyway, the crowd, frenzied and impenetrable, was ready to say goodbye to its heroes. The Scorpions, you see, announced their retirement back in January, just a couple months before the release of what just might be their final album, the above-average Sting of the Tail. This means the group’s current tour could be their final romp across the States. Though most fans were totally “feeling it,” I had to agree with one dude whom I overheard say to pal, “Man, I love this band, but I don’t know about this set list.” Translation: way too many of those syrupy power ballads and not enough of the old-school metal from the 1970s. I stuck around for a while, but ultimately I was a little bummed.

Maneuvering from stage to stage was darn near impossible by the end of the night. But I finally fought my way to the M&I Classic stage to catch a little bit of Yes’ set. I came just at the right time, too: a 10-minute acoustic guitar solo from Steve Howe followed by one of the band’s “new wave” hits, “Owner of a Lonely Heart.” Say what you will about the band’s ’80s output; I think this tune is a killer track, right up there with anything from Genesis’ new-wave phase. It was also the perfect ending to my stint at Summerfest 2010: hanging with a mass of heady prog-rock fans so large it could’ve easily filled up two to three Wal-Mart parking lots is something I won’t easily forget.

Goodbye Milwaukee — hello detox!

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Rhapsody asked me — actually, the Classic Rock Crate Digger — to head to Milwaukee to cover Summerfest, the city’s annual music-festival tradition. I stayed for three days and wrote a dispatch for each one for the Rhapsody Blog. Below is the second. Here’s the first and third.

Thursday started off in spectacular fashion, if I do say so myself: blazing yellow sun, clear blue skies and talking Thin Lizzy with Craig Finn, whose band The Hold Steady was running through a morning soundcheck at the U.S. Cellular Connection Stage in preparation of their 10 p.m. performance.

Actually, during our interview we talked about several bands near and dear to our classic-rock loving, uh, butts, including early Scorpions and the mighty UFO. But we really dug into Thin Lizzy. I told Finn — who is a super-swell dude, as well as a top-shelf record nerd — that I thought too many rock critics mention Springsteen when attempting to parse his influences. It’s true. You can’t read a review or feature that doesn’t contain a reference to The Boss and how his street-rock storytelling helped shape Finn’s own rock-and-roll poetics. Springsteen is definitely a defining force, but I also hear a strong Phil Lynott influence. In fact, on the new album, Heaven is Whenever, the tune “Rock Problems” contains a few key tricks (especially the twin-like guitar lines) clearly inspired by Thin Lizzy. Finn wholeheartedly agreed and was pretty stoked to be talking about one of his favorite bands. I got the feeling that he wishes more writers would cite the great Phil Lynott.

I had a long break between interviews today, which means I was able to wander during daytime hours more than I did yesterday. As with every other day of the festival, all the stages opened around noon, with bar bands specializing in classic rock covers or brawny electric blues dominating the earliest slots. There was 2nd Wave, a local ’80s tribute band; Rosewood & Steel, who tackled the Beatles chestnut “Don’t Let me Down;” and the harmonica-driven Back Alley Band. The Crate Digger grew up at the other end of Rust Belt (Central New York to be specific), and I’m of the opinion that bar rock and rugged, Alligator-informed blues has always been bigger in these parts than just about anywhere else in America. There’s just something about the punch-the-clock culture of the industrial north that remains committed to these sounds. In a lot of ways, it’s the region’s folk music.

Nightfall is when the heavy hitters began to emerge. And there were many, chief among them Latin-rock icon Santana over at Marcus Amphitheater. Seating up to 25,000, it is by far the largest stage at Summerfest. Carlos was good and consistent as always (though I had to jet early to catch The Hold Steady). Admittedly, I was more excited to see his opener: Mr. Steve Winwood, whose current tour is a career overview coinciding with the release of his new compilation Revolutions: The Very Best of Steve Winwood. I’m not going to lie to you. I think Winwood’s absolute peak as an artist came with Traffic, who released two of my all-time fave rock albums: Mr. Fantasy (a.k.a. Heaven is in Your Mind) and the band’s self-titled sophomore effort. I wanted to hear him perform stuff from this era (I can’t say the same of his solo output from the 1980s and ’90s). Luckily, his set peaked with a searing rendition of “Dear Mr. Fantasy.” The Winwood on this song sounded like a completely different man who performed the rest of the set, including the show’s finale, “Gimme Some Lovin’.” Everything else was the product of a seasoned veteran who knows his material inside and out. But this was the sound of a man digging deep into his clouded past to make something old new again. His voice sounded sharp and dynamic, while his guitar was even better. The dude totally slayed, closing out the song with a solo that was twice as loud as the rest of the band. Heavy stuff for sure.

I closed out the night, splitting time between two shows: The Hold Steady (U.S. Cellular Connection Stage) and Joan Jett & The Blackhearts (The CoolTV Rock Stage). I was pretty bummed that Summerfest scheduled both bands at 10 p.m., thus forcing me into this situation. But oh well. Too much is always better than too little. Though The Hold Steady are the new kids on the block when compared to Jett and Winwood, they really do possess an old-school appreciation of rock-and-roll mythology. Right from the opening lines of “Constructive Summer” the crowd echoed every single word Finn sang. This carried on song after song: “Stuck Between Stations,” “Sequestered in Memphis,” “The Sweet Part of the City.” A lot has been made of Finn the rock poet, yet he’s a killer frontman as well. Small and balding, he flails about, incessantly shooting his arms in the air while pouting, frowning and smiling, all with a grand playfulness. He’s like some nerdy kid who has been given an opportunity to act out all his rock-and-roll fantasies before a real, live audience.

Speaking of diminutive rockers packed with charisma, Jett blew away a massive audience, most of them total diehards with fists that couldn’t stop pumping. A Blackhearts set needs very little explaining. They took the stage and played one massive hit after another. Occasionally, Jett told a great story and came off like the coolest woman on the planet. Or, some tech dude came out and handed her a guitar. Next to him, she looked like the smallest woman on the planet – but still ultra-cool, of course. Because I had to hoof it over from The Hold Steady show next door, I arrived late. However, I caught “Cherry Bomb,” “You Drive Me Wild,” “Do You Wanna Touch Me” and a fantastic version of the Replacements’ “Androgynous.” Joan is a good songwriter, but her taste in covers is exquisite, as The Mats’ tune clearly demonstrates.

All in all, Jett most certainly drove me wild. In fact, she drove me straight to bed. I’m exhausted! Time to recharge the batteries for Friday. It’s going to be an intense one.

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Rhapsody asked me — actually, the Classic Rock Crate Digger — to head to Milwaukee to cover Summerfest, the city’s annual music-festival tradition. I stayed for three days and wrote a dispatch for each one for the Rhapsody Blog. Below is the first. Here’s the second and third.

Sclemeel, Schlemazel, Hasenfeffer Incorporated.

We’re gonna do it, people: the Classic Rock Crate Digger, along with the rest of Team Rhapsody, is here in Milwaukee attending the all mighty Summerfest.

Now, there might be music festivals out there with more hipster cache or street cred as they say, but none are bigger, or longer, than the “Big Gig,” as it has come to be known through the decades. Summerfest is, according to the Guinness World Records, the largest music festival in the world. Each and every year hundreds of thousands of ready-to-party-hard concert-goers pass through the gates of Henry Maier Festival Park (a 75-acre spread tucked in between downtown Milwaukee and Lake Michigan) to catch a who’s who in rock, pop, hip-hop, R&B, country, comedy, folk and more. Surrounding the festival’s 11 stages is what amounts to a sizeable carnival: a gazillion food vendors, copious amounts of beer, family fun stuff, a market where trinkets are sold and an actual Skyglider that runs the length of the park.

So yeah, this sucker is no joke.

Because of its enormity, Summerfest possesses a breadth and diversity that’s more or less unrivalled. Today was no exception. But before I dive into some of the bands and artists I checked out, I want to talk about the cool interviews Team Rhapsody conducted. In fact, I had to put off any hardcore concert-going until nightfall, because our day was filled with so much backstage hobnobbing.

We sat down with three bands: Puddle of Mudd, Umphrey’s McGee and Chevelle, all of whom played later in the evening. All three interviews went really well, even if I was a tad nervous. The most memorable moment came when we talked with Wes Scantlin on P.o.M.’s tour bus. First off, I think our crew barged in just as the dude was dozing off. But hey, he was a good sport about it — and affable, too. During these interviews, you never know what’s going to come up in the course of conversation. And for some odd reason, Scantlin and I started talking about Jim “Dandy” Mangrum of the southern-rock institution Black Oak Arkansas (Jim Dandy to the rescue…). Amazingly, he saw Dandy perform not too long ago (I failed to find out why). He said the guy was totally insane (he is), running around the stage shirtless, with beyond-tight spandex pants on. Now I have to admit, as a hardcore fan of classic rock, this blew my mind wide open. Dandy is one of the most audacious rock gods to ever walk this fine planet of ours. He is the proto-David Lee Roth for crying out loud. I told Scantlin that Puddle of Mudd should think seriously about some kind of collaboration with him; maybe they could all wear matching spandex. I don’t think he knew what to say to that. He just kind of shook his head incredulously at the very thought.

A couple hours after we bid Scantlin adieu, he and P.o.M. climbed the steps to the Harley-Davidson Roadhouse stage and proceeded to put Milwaukee in a headlock and give it a big, old wedgie. The group opened with their most recent single: “Stoned.” “I gotta get this shit off my chest/ Another sucker behind a desk/ You try to tell me that you know best,” Scantlin howled as the crowd echoed his every word with fist-pumping fervor.

Puddle of Mudd weren’t the only band pouring truckloads of post-grunge attitude on the festival. Both Chevelle and Cavo also unloaded their respective brands of heaviness. Chevelle in particular is really quite impressive, considering they are only a trio, yet they churn out a sound that’s as powerful as it is wiry and pared down. I took the rage down a notch or three when I split time between The Dark Star Orchestra, the wildly successful Grateful Dead tribute band, and modern jam-band heroes Umphrey’s McGee. To see these two back to back actually made me realize how the latter isn’t necessarily a jam band. I mean, they are in many key respects, particularly when they marry their free improvisation chops to reggae-inspired rhythms. But ultimately, they sound more like mid- to late-1970s Genesis than The Dead. In other words — and if you want to get all nerdy about it — Umphrey’s McGee are more about prog-rock precision than hippie-fried formlessness.

Speaking of progressive rock, I ended my night the way any true fan of classic rock should: at the M&I Classic Rock Stage watching them Moody Blues. I was kind of surprised by their turn-out. I know the Moodies are a popular concert draw still, but I think they attracted a larger crowd than just about anybody else I caught this evening, Puddle of Mudd included. It was packed for sure. Plus, they had the best sound by far: flute, synthesizer, double-neck guitar and the double-drummers set-up were all mixed into a crystalline perfection. Iconic singer and songwriter Justin Hayward even made a bizarre joke about digging Viagra just before the band launched into their 1969 classic “Higher and Higher,” from the To Our Children’s Children’s Children album. The Moody Blues provided just the right finale — smooth and dreamy. Tomorrow, the hard stuff is a-coming my way.

Give me a J-O-A-N J-E-T-T.

What’s that spell?

Rock and roll.

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